


Here's my choice

by sassynails



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Background Het, First Time, Fluff, Iwa-centric, M/M, Men Crying, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Romance, Slash, Translation, Translation in English, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-15 16:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11234826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassynails/pseuds/sassynails
Summary: Falling in love with your best friend — few things could be worse than that; loving him for years - a whole new brand of hell. But sooner or later your nerves will crack. Even Iwaizumi will guess what’s going on.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Я выбираю тебя](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3801364) by [Puhospinka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puhospinka/pseuds/Puhospinka). 



> This fic is a translation from Russian. The original text is by the awesome Puhospinka. 
> 
> I'd like to thank [CrazyJill](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyJill) for her wonderful beta-reading skills.

by [Ji_chan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ji_chan)

Iwaizumi always wondered who picked training camps for the team? It always looked like this someone went by “let’s make life a challenge in everything” as a principle. Anyway, they’d already been riding for five hours and Iwaizumi had bad  premonitions. Last time they had had to play in a grass field and sleep ‘under the stars’, as Coach Mizoguchi had worded it. The time before last, the gym had been okay, but there had been an express train railway hub twenty meters away from the hotel. Surely, this time there would be something equally unforgettable.

His back was giving him hell, and he had to readjust his sitting position once again. Oikawa dozed off on his shoulder, folding himself at least three times over, and Iwaizumi elbowed him in the ribs.

“We there yet?” he started sleepily and immediately let out a painful groan, trying to stretch out his legs. 

“Like hell we are,” Iwaizumi grumbled. The bus swayed, merrily hitting a sharp turn, and Oikawa gurgled indignantly when Iwaizumi landed all over him with his entire body weight. 

God, will this ever be over? He stayed like this for a moment, then, gathering the last scraps of his physical and moral strength, straightened up and sat back. 

“You’re freaking heavy,”  Oikawa whined. 

Iwaizumi snapped his nose lightly with a finger, but Oikawa just looked up at him sleepily from under his lashes and smiled.

“Well, sorry,” Iwaizumi said finally and sighed. It wasn’t really Oikawa’s fault after all, that he could sleep like a log in any state or position and Iwaizumi was barely capable of resting his head on the road.

“Wake me when we’re there.” 

Oikawa fidgeted like a cat searching for a comfy pose, nuzzled Iwaizumi’s shoulder and stilled. And then he was dozing off again, just like that. 

Lucky him, he could probably nod off standing up, like a horse.  Outside the dawn was breaking and the air was turning grey. Iwaizumi could now actually see where they were. Fields stretched out all around, although the bus had supposedly left Miyagi quite a while ago. Once in a while they passed small neat clusters of homes scattered around. Iwaizumi moved. The sights outside bored him and besides, he could barely see anything anyway through an obstinate tuft of Oikawa’s mop sticking right into his face. He tried to fix the stringy lock. Not that he could see any better, but it gave him something to do with his hands.

“Iwa-chan is touching me,”  Oikawa mumbled into his shoulder, and Iwaizumi sighed, pushing him away.

“Just bored,” he said.

“You’re always bored,” Oikawa noted and stretched. Then he looked at his watch and said, “We should be there any time now.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Coach Mizoguchi said it would take five and a half hours to get there. It’s been five hours.”

Iwaizumi stuck his head into the aisle and looked ahead: he could only see Mizoguchi’s shoulder from where he was sitting, but it looked like Coach was awake. As if he’d felt that he was stared at, Mizoguchi turned and Iwaizumi tapped his watch, lifting an eyebrow. 

Mizoguchi nodded, fumbled and got up. The bus gently swayed again and he grabbed a seat handle. Oikawa fell on Iwaizumi. 

“Guys, attention, everyone needs to wake up.”

The drowsy bus, buzzing with quiet murmurs and talks, sighed and moved; Kindaichi startled and cried out, “What? I overslept?!”, someone laughed.

“Go on, coach,” Hanamaki offered generously. Mizoguchi frowned, threw something at Irihata who was still sitting, and cleared his throat.

“We’re almost there. In fact, we will be there,” he looked at his watch, “in about twenty minutes. So wake up, pucker up, if someone wants to use the bathroom, better wait a bit, I’d rather we make it earlier there sooner than later.”

“And if someone like really-really has to go?” Matsukawa wondered in a thin voice, and then, Hanamaki’s muffled laugh was heard..

“If someone like really-really has to go,” Mizoguchi looked around the bus with a stern frown on his face, “We stop. But when we get there that someone gets to carry everyone’s bags.”

There was laughter, and Iwaizumi chuckled too; the good mood was back. He threw a sidelong glance at Oikawa, who was peering into his phone, then typed something quickly and muted the screen. Probably texting to one of his fans. Those are ready to chat with him at any time of day or night, be it even five in the morning. Iwaizumi decidedly thought this must be pure nightmare.

Trees passed outside in a blur, the bus shook, and Oikawa pressed his curious nose against the window.

“I looked it up on the map. Nothing of interest there,” he said, never tearing his gaze from the scenery behind the window.

“A railroad?” Iwaizumi asked grumpily.

“Nope.”

“Nor sea. Or hot springs.”

So, there’s nothing there and they’re going straight into some kind of an empty desert. Wonderful.

“Well, there must be at least something?”

“A cafe,” Oikawa shrugged and pulled his seat back upright. “And a gas station.”

Iwaizumi adjusted his seat too, stretched out and shook his head. He felt like he’d be a total slug falling apart during the morning training session. He’d be lucky to drag his feet to his bed and hit the pillow in the evening. He wished he’d be able to sleep through the night, too.

The bus was slowing down and rolled now, jittering between squatty houses. It drove through the center of a small village, passed the water tower, then dived into a forest and suddenly stopped.

“We’re here,” Mizoguchi announced loudly. Iwaizumi gave the outside view a surprised look through the window. The tree branches brushed against the glass and green leaves shivered in the wind, but, beside the low buzz of the bus engine, silence reigned all around. 

Oikawa moved, and Iwaizumi pressed himself into the seat back, letting him squeeze by.

“Hey, where’re you going, captain?” Hanamaki said, grabbing him by the jacket, “It’s not good to be the first to leave the sinking ship!”

Oikawa gave him a wondering smile and jumped outside. And the bus was set aflutter immediately, the team streamed out, chattering and laughing. Iwaizumi was the last to leave. The woody air made his head spin right away and the morning humidity clung to his skin. Oikawa looked disgustingly chipper and Iwaizumi turned away. 

His bag had already been taken out of the luggage compartment by Kindaichi, and Iwaizumi looked around. Where, exactly, were they supposed to go?

“Follow me,” Mizoguchi ordered.

Irihata was making some kind of arrangements with the bus driver, Oikawa whistled dreamily, Kunimi seemed to be falling asleep on his feet. They moved alongside a small path that winded through the woods. Oikawa walked on with such surety as if he’d picked the place himself. When he stopped abruptly, Mazukawa who’d been trudging right behind, walked into his back. 

Iwaizumi hurried up and squeezed through the crowding team, stood by Oikawa and looked. The silence stretched over them.

“Well,” Iwaizumi said finally, “It could have been much worse.”

“At least there are definitely no trains here,” Oikawa confirmed and carefully stepped forward.

The former American military base was tiny, once upon a time it had housed seismologists and communication crew. When they had wrapped up their work, the base had been mothballed and passed into the care of the local municipality. Which clearly had no idea what to do with it. Located in a place with no connection, not even a good road to get to it, the base couldn’t even be used for recreational purposes. 

However, it had electric power, water, good roof over it all and, most importantly, a very passable training gym. Of course, most of the equipment was dismantled and moved, but Irihata consolingly found out that even though the volleyball net wasn’t there, the fittings for it stood strong. 

And hey, if they liked the place well enough, they could use it regularly. Iwaizumi looked skeptically over a low-standing wall, crowned with barbed wire, and thought that there must be some kind of a catch here. Although, there was no point following this train of thought anyway: they have arrived at their destination. 

The catches, however, started making themselves known immediately after they entered the base. A scrawny old man, who simultaneously held the positions of a guard and a local ranger, gave them keys to their rooms and showed them how to turn on the power and where to get water. Then he hopped on his bicycle and pedaled away, promising to see them off in two days. 

Second, the floor plan was very much European. Tiny cubicle bedrooms, meant for two or three people, were miserably dank and cold. And third, they had to cook their own dinner.

“Hanamaki and Mazukawa get to have the first cooking duty,” announced Mizoguchi in the common room, looking at his tablet.

“We all will die,” Watari’s voice sounded loud and clear.

“I’m not hungry after all,” echoed Yahaba and was instantly elbowed in the ribs by Mazukawa.

“What, have you no faith in your sempais?” Hanamaki asked sternly.

Yahaba gave him a doubtful look and scratched himself. Iwaizumi sighed and left the room. 

“It’s just breakfast,” he said on his way out. “How hard is it to ruin? I’m gonna check where we are to sleep.”

Oikawa trailed after him. They passed from one room to another and Oikawa was becoming more and more gloomy. 

“Alright”, he said after they finished checking all the rooms. “Let’s get these stupid metal beds out of the first room. It seems like it has fewer drafts than the rest.”

“We’ll be pressed here like herrings in a tin.”

“It’s just for one night. At least we won’t freeze our butts off.”

Strangely enough, they all fit in, there was even a narrow strip of floor left for walking to one’s sleeping place by the wall. Oikawa was so pleased with himself, Iwaizumi wanted to kick him. One look at the spread futons made him want to fall asleep right then and there. Oikawa though immediately started the nagging. “Don’t you sleep, Iwa-chan, don’t close your eyes!” For which he was, of course, kicked, but at least Iwaizumi wasn’t that sleepy anymore.

It also appeared that Hanamaki and Mazukawa managed to cook a rather decent breakfast between the two of them, which made Iwaizumi’s mood rise a bit higher. The morning session wiped out the last dredges of his exhaustion. After lunch they did a few double-sided trainings and only when Irihata said they were done for the day Iwaizumi realized that he’s dead on his feet.

He was so beat that he failed to get rid of Oikawa, who dragged him along into the dining room and proclaimed him the hero of the day. For whatever reason, Iwaizumi didn’t even begin to understand, he was too tired, but sensibly judged that if he did whatever it was that Oikawa wanted him to do, like, eating his dinner, maybe he’d be left alone at last.

He didn’t even feel that the water in the shower was lukewarm at best, nor did he feel how cold the empty sleeping room was. He simply fell into his futon, wrapped his blanket around and passed out instantly. His last thought was something about setting an alarm, but he let it go, helpless to find any strength to follow it. Oikawa wouldn’t miss a chance to wake him up after all.

He was waking up slowly, surfacing from a very deep slumber with goosebumps of pleasure that ran through his entire body. It happened when he had a god dream. Iwaizumi always felt vexed afterwards for not having remembered anything from the dream, just the feeling of profound happiness that stayed. This time was different. The touches to his lips, careful and soft, seemed entirely real and Iwaizumi sighed shakingly, opening his mouth. And then woke up fully. In the silence of the room filled with sleeping people, Oikawa was there above him and he was kissing Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa? Was kissing him? Iwaizumi’s eyes flew open, and Oikawa reeled back. His wide-open eyes reflected the roundness of the Moon. Then he jumped up and fled. Iwaizumi sat up on his futon, staring dumbly at the wall in front of him. An emptiness was cooling inside his chest, his lips stung a little and his thoughts were turning drudgingly inside his head, heavy as stones.

He tried to listen to the sounds of the sleeping camp. There was silence all around, only the net creaked quietly outside and the sound of people lightly breathing in their sleep. He touched the pillow beside his futon. It was cold. He wondered how long Oikawa had been sitting there.

Iwaizumi closed his eyes and fell back onto his futon. Half of the problems should be gone on their own after a good sleep, his father used to say. Here’s to that.

His morning started with Mazukawa giving him his kind of a cheerful greeting: his warmed up blanket was mercilessly dragged off, with Mazukawa proclaiming that the cream of the crop of their team shouldn’t be seeing sweet dreams as it was his turn to cook breakfast. His and Oikawa’s. 

At the mention of Oikawa Iwaizumi started, his mood, which wasn’t anywhere close to cheerful to begin with, dropped a few notches down. What had happened at night seemed like a dream, veiled in a blur of unreal, like it had happened to someone else. Oikawa better not even start about it. Iwaizumi was no coward, but at the moment he was besieged with the thought that something was irreparably breaking between the two of them. It wasn’t yet too late to pretend nothing ever happened, right? Right.

He silently pulled the blanket from Mazukawa’s hands. Oikawa and he would have to talk.


	2. Chapter 2

A huge bowl of water was boiling in the tiny kitchen, the countertop was filled with veggie cans. Mizoguchi yawned blearily and Oikawa was piling rice into the great pot. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Iwaizumi demanded with a frown.

Oikawa was so startled that he spilled the entire pack of rice into the pot.

“Shit,” he said, shook out the remaining rice and crumpled the bag.

Mizoguchi laughed.

“No such thing as too much rice. Pour a little more water, we’ll have the leftovers for lunch.”

“Iwa-chan, why are you here? I’ll manage on my own,” Oikawa said simultaneously.

“Alright you guys,” Mizoguchi wiped his hands on a towel, “If Iwaizumi deigned to wake up, I’ll leave you two with the breakfast.”

He squeezed by them, yawned again and closed the door behind himself.

Oikawa had a clean t-shirt wrapped around him in a manner of an apron. He looked tired and worn out, dark circles around his eyes. His lips were pressed tight and he wore a heavy frown.

“Did you even sleep?” Iwaizumi couldn’t hold himself back.

Oikawa carefully reduced the fire under the huge stove, looked into the bowl and wiped his hands on a towel.

“Iwa-chan,” he said very quietly, “We need to talk. Just not now.”

Well, that was a very shitty start. Especially coming from Oikawa. Iwaizumi’s mouth turned bitter from the very thought about how this was just another delay till the moment everything broke irrevocably. He reached for the stove and got his hands smacked by a towel. 

“Hands off,” Oikawa said in his regular voice. “Open the cans and put the vegetables into these two plates.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. Alright, he’s crap at cooking rice, that didn’t mean anything. At least he, unlike Oikawa can cook meat. Which was surely more important. They fussed about the kitchen till the rice was ready. Outside the camp was waking up, the air filled with Kindaichi swearing up a storm because someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on his head, with Mazukawa grumbling.

Breakfast started at a whistle and Yahaba yelled, “Everyone get down, Captain’s serving!”

There were further jokes about how Oikawa could mistake a bowl for a ball and toss it, laughter and hungry complaining, just like it had always been before, Iwaizumi thought. Before Oikawa accidentally brushed against him with his hand and immediately recoiled, barely holding onto the boiling water he carried.

They sat at the opposite sides of a long table. Hanamaki dragged him into a discussion about pros and cons of Kawasaki and Suzuki and for a while Iwaizumi even managed to throw Oikawa out of his head. 

But the situation deteriorated as soon as the training started. First, Oikawa begged the coach to let him play for the greens, somehow convincing him it was a grand idea. Iwaizumi fumed, pulling on his red shirt with number one on it. What the fuck, they were going to work on the reverse cross. Yahaba looked surprised, but didn’t argue.

The reds won the training game, but mostly because Oikawa kept screwing up and not because they were better. The second team looked frustrated and Irihata made Yahaba switch places with Oikawa.

After the first set they lost Iwaizumi approached Oikawa, who was trying to catch his breath, hands propped on his knees, and smacked him on the head.

Oikawa looked at him startled and Iwaizumi grumbled, unable to face him.

“Come one, you idiot, play. Makes me sick, looking at you.”

“Iwa-chan…”

Unable to  listen to anything right now Iwaizumi turned and walked away. But the game got on track after that. Oikawa became his normal self and the balls didn’t seem like randomly flying rocks anymore.

Yet, everything had changed. Oikawa had been always close, always there before, half a step to the side or shoulder to shoulder, but now he kept away deliberately.  He bantered with Hanamaki and Mazukawa, cheered up the first-year players or chatted with the benchies. In other words, he tried to do anything to avoid coming near Iwaizumi. There had been times when Iwaizumi would have considered this turn of events  as dream come true, but right now he simply felt too rotten seeing Oikawa distancing himself.

Their bus arrived when it started to get dark. First-years hauled luggage, the driver was obviously bored and smoked squatting. Out of everyone’s way, the coaches were arguing about something and the old guard, all pink in the face, kept merrily fingering a heavy key ring.

For once they had actually had a good session, the gym had been fine, no trains, no one even had got any food poisoning. The catch Iwaizumi had kept expecting turned out to be something entirely different. Besides, he was completely swept up in the understanding that he would have to talk to Oikawa. Iwaizumi was no idiot and Oikawa had never stooped as low as dumb gay jokes. And yet. And yet, Iwaizumi had real trouble trying to wrap the thought of his best friend being in love with him around his own brain. For god’s sake, Oikawa, what was wrong with you?

When the driver glanced at his watch and got up, everyone started trailing towards the bus door. Oikawa was loitering somewhere, though usually he would have slipped in first so that he could take the window seat and they would bicker about it later. Not that he actually liked sitting by the window, just out of a principle. But Oikawa wasn’t there so Iwaizumi had a chance. He planted his ass into the first window seat and pulled out his headphones. The bus was filling up slowly, there were even some strangers, as it turned out, some locals whom the driver agreed to give a lift to Sendai. But Oikawa still wasn’t there.

When he finally arrived, most of the seats had been taken. He faltered between the rows of seats and then, after Hanamaki pushed him, landed right next to Iwaizumi. 

“You fell asleep or something?” Hanamaki asked, making his way to the back of the bus where he and Mazukawa always sat.

“Iwa-chan took my place,” Oikawa whined.  Iwaizumi sighed, “Should’ve come even later, missed a chance of riding standing up.”  

Oikawa answered nothing, unlike usual, he just closed his eyes and pushed down the back of his seat, so that Watari, who was sitting behind, kicked it, irritated.

“Oh, for crying shame, captain. It’s too early to sleep yet.”

“Oikawa-san is exhausted,” Oikawa said not even bothering to open his eyes. “Oikawa-san will rest.”

Iwaizumi turned his head away towards the window. He’d say Oikawa-san hadn’t had his ass kicked properly in a while, but it seemed somehow rude and out of place right now. Right now he didn’t want to bother Oikawa, as if he were made of glass.

When the bus finally started moving, Oikawa did nod off and Iwaizumi for the umpteenth time envied his ability to fall asleep just about anywhere. He couldn’t have fallen asleep on the bus even after two days of intense training. 

Dusk quickly settled outside, the sidewalk swam by in blurred lights which sometimes, when the bus slowed, turned into neon signs or street lights. First-years talked in low voices, their muted agitated chatter swam just outside the edge of Iwaizumi’s conscience, he hardly listened to it. “And I said..” “if it wasn’t for Watari-san…” “Iwaizumi-chan serves like he’s…” “I didn’t know Oikawa-san was…”

Yes, there, too, were plenty of things Iwaizumi didn’t know his best friend was. He threw a sideway glance at the sleeping Oikawa. His eyelashes fluttered and light danced on his face.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi called. 

Oikawa kept lying still for some time then opened his eyes. He licked his chapped lips and said hoarsely, “Can’t sleep.”

Before Oikawa would rest his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder and snored sweetly, warming Iwaizumi’s skin with his breath. Offering something of a kind right now seemed like something only a total dick would do. Iwaizumi sighed.

“The earlier we talk, the better.”

Oikawa shuddered and for a split moment his eyes looked heartsick, but then he pressed his lips together and nodded. 

“If you want, we can stop at my place.”

Iwaizumi thought for a moment.

“What time do we arrive?”

“Four… five in the morning?” Oikawa lifted his shoulder. “I dunno.”

“Then I stop at my place, get change and go to yours. We’ll have three hours before classes start, that’s time enough to settle everything.

“Fine,” Oikawa turned away and looked at the inky black window which reflected the bus interior. 

“Now go back to sleep for fuck’s sake.” It sounded rude, but Iwaizumi was never any good at showing compassion.

Oikawa only smiled and closed his eyes. Iwaizumi’s fists itched: alright, what the hell was it with the sour face and the dumb sacrificing act? If Oikawa was really in love with him, he didn’t have to do the face thing. It made Iwaizumi want to punch him right away.

His ears were burning with anger. Damn fucking Oikawa, sitting there like a kicked puppy. Iwaizumi sighed deeply. May be when they would have talked, everything would clear and turn out to be something less scary. Who knows what crawled up his butt and died this time. Most of Oikawa’s attractions passed very quickly, this Iwaizumi knew.

A nasty voice inside his head whispered that now he knew why, too. This was so unfair. Why would Oikawa even look at him that way. And how many times had he done this before - look and kiss? Iwaizumi scrambled down in his chair, lowered his head, hunched his shoulders and closed his eyes.

Oikawa wasn’t sleeping, Iwaizumi could tell by his breathing. And his anger didn’t go away. The bus slowed and stopped, one of the students was getting off. It took another twenty minutes for them to reach his and Oikawa’s houses, by that time half the seats were empty. It was a good thing that there were no training sessions on Monday. Iwaizumi planned to go to bed directly after school.

When the bus stopped at their cross, Iwaizumi wanted to punch Oikawa awake, but he quickly got up on his own, stretched and, wishing everyone a good day, made his way towards exit. There was nothing left for Iwaizumi to do but to follow. Oikawa looked disgustingly cheerful, Iwaizumi’s teeth clenched from the very look at such pretense. This was the one thing Iwaizumi hated about Oikawa the most, when he behaved this way, like he had to smile through his teeth when everything around him was falling to pieces.

They jumped out of the bus and on the pavement, got their bags and waved at the bus as it drove off. The city around them was waking even though the furthermost houses were still drowsing off under the grey blanket of the night clouds. Oikawa was kicking his bag and it was impossible to see his face expression - he just wouldn’t turn Iwaizumi’s way. Iwaizumi’s throat went unpleasantly dry and he felt like his chest was being held tight by an iron grip.

“Now, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said quietly. “We’re gonna talk now. Because I’m sick of this shit.”

For a split second he felt scared that he wouldn’t be able to hold back, he’d say something about wanting everything to just go back the way it had been and that this goddamn kiss had never happened. 

“Right, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa agreed timidly. “Let’s go.”

They ambled ahead till they reached a playground. As far as Iwaizumi remembered, it was always stuffed full of kids and young moms. Kids bustled, played, ran around the painted figures and the swings. Now, empty and quiet, it was barely recognizable. 

They left their bags by a small slide with a smooth, polished surface. Oikawa rested his hip against its side and hung his head. Iwaizumi pressed his knee against its other side and crossed his arms behind his head.

During the time they had known each other - okay, a spade should be called a spade - during the time they had been friends, the’d been through many things. They fought and they made up, they got in trouble and shared moments of triumph. Iwaizumi remembered very well how Oikawa hadn’t cracked in middle school that it had been Iwaizumi, who’d taken his dad’s car and Oikawa wasn’t even there. They both had gotten punished that time, just because Oikawa had been the first to reach the car that had crushed into a street light, and he’d gotten inside, too. This was when Iwaizumi knew: Oikawa may have been a jerk, but he could rely on him. He was the one Iwaizumi would trust with just about anything. Each fight they had had just brought them closer. But this, this was something entirely different. It wasn’t even a fight, whatever the hell it was.

Oikawa hung his head heven lower, so, Iwaizumi started with a heavy sigh.

“Why did you kiss me?” and added hastily, before he changed his mind, “Are you in love with me or something?”

For a flying moment, only for a moment, it seemed to him that Oikawa would start to laugh, such an awesome joke, Iwa-chan, don’t you think. Oikawa lifted his head startled and, frustrated, Iwaizumi kicked the slide. And again. The wooden boards croaked, the sound rolling around the playground.

“Cut it out, Iwa-chan,” now it was Oikawa’s turn to look angry, “You’ll wake the entire block.”  Then he flushed with color. “Sorry… about the kiss. It was an accident.” His fingers fidgeted, both hands clenching, forming a knot and then unclenching, and Iwaizumi couldn’t stop staring at them. Oikawa himself could pull any lie out of his ass, but his hands never lied. And now they spoke on their own, brokenly, nervously. 

“I’d never done this before,” Oikawa went on. “Really, I have no clue what had gotten into me, why then. Sometimes I would just… look at you, you know? You always sleep so tight, and I didn’t have to hide, to think someone would think something, about me, I don’t care, but about you… You’re my best friend.”

For some reason Iwaizumi thought Oikawa would cry. But he went on, quiet and monotonous, eyes dry and shining and somehow it made everything even worse. But the worst of the worse was the realization that he, Iwaizumi, could do nothing. He couldn’t make Oikawa stop feeling what he felt and he couldn’t give him what he wanted. And unexpectedly, it hurt like a bitch. Even learning that Oikawa had been in love with him for ages, since middle school, didn’t hurt as much. He had no words to say. All the words seemed just stupid. And he also suddenly understood just how much friendship with Oikawa meant for him. If he let himself think, just for one second that Oikawa would transfer to another school, something cold and dreadful coiled inside his stomach. 

Their talk lasted almost two hours, the most difficult talk in Iwaizumi’s life. 

“Let’s go,” he said, when Oikawa finished and, exhausted, closed his eyes. “The parents are getting worried. Got two messages from them already.”

Oikawa pulled out his phone, checked it and texted a quick reply to someone. 

They started walking. Iwaizumi kicked the sand with his sneakers and Oikawa followed quietly. 

“Iwa-chan.”

“Huh?”

“I feel better now.”

“Well, good for you,” Iwaizumi answered darkly.

Oikawa laughed, and he immediately wanted to punch him. 

“You act like being in love is something like a disability for you,”  Oikawa said. 

“Being in love with me is,” Iwaizumi gritted out. 

“You know, the thing I was afraid of the most, is that it would kill our friendship.” Oikawa’s voice finally gave a crack and Iwaizumi made a face: what an idiot.

“One flaw more or less doesn’t make a difference,” Iwaizumi said with annoyance. And then added something that nagged at him during their talk, “I can’t give you anything, Oikawa. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, I know,” Oikawa answered easily. “Otherwise I’d have done something long before. Well, you know…”

“Something like saying you love me?”

“Well, yeah.” 

There was finally a smile in Oikawa’s voice.

“Well, now that we got it off our chests,” and something did release in his chest, Iwaizumi could even breathe easier, “let’s hurry up.”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa’s tone abruptly changed cadence and Iwaizumi turned. Oikawa was just standing there, feet wide apart, fists pressed hard, morning breeze ruffling his mop. He looked like was going to take on Shiratorizawa single-handedly and win. “I love you.”

“Um, okay, fine,” Iwaizumi answered, bummed out. “Do I have to say something? And I don’t. Love you, that is.”

“This is so cruel of you, Iwa-chan, how dare you?” Oikawa whined, falling into step with him.

Iwaizumi chuckled wickedly, “Because I can.”

And then they realized they’d forgotten their bags at the playground and had to go back. Oikawa finally got his smack at the head, because, of course, it was all his fault, for which Oikawa tripped him and Iwaizumi almost landed on his face. Oikawa ran away home and when Iwaizumi reached his own door it dawned on him: nothing happened. Oikawa was still Oikawa, had been for years and this was the most important thing. The only difference was the thing that Iwaizumi hadn’t known before and now he did.


End file.
